


Lemonade

by altered_eagle



Series: City Goblins [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Frenemies, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote more h/c what a surprise, M/M, Poisoning, Shit that Batman has to deal with, Sickfic, Whump, always drugs, and drugs, and sorry dudes but, but he can handle a medical emergency like a boss, the Joker is a crazy bastard, there's no smut in part 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:04:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altered_eagle/pseuds/altered_eagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The next time Bruce Wayne saw the Joker it was in the middle of a lull of the hot sticky dog days of summer. Batman of course had seen the Joker a dozen times before then, but it was the side of him that was all sharp and blades and foaming livid rage, the usual side.</i><br/>A sequel of sorts to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/941970/chapters/1836979">I Wanna Be Your Dog.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> A snippet of a continuation in which the tables are turned. Thanks SO MUCH to the folk who encouraged me to write more of this pairing, sorry it's so short. There's a link to my inspiration song at the beginning. Even though the fic is from Wayne's POV, i feel like the song Lemonade is more from the Joker's point of view. 
> 
> i imagine the boys as Bale and Ledger because it's hot, but it could fit any verse.
> 
>  **Edit 05/14:** i added some shit because there is always room for more vulnerability.  
>  **Edit 11/14:** Mmmm vulnerability. There's always room for more.

[Lemonade: Blind Melon](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7KVrdZIOkg)

The next time the Bruce Wayne saw the Joker it was in the middle of a lull of the hot sticky dog days of summer. 

Batman of course had seen the Joker a dozen times before then, but it was the side of him that was all sharp and blades and foaming livid rage, the usual side. 

In fact the day before the Joker had punched Batman in the head so hard that his mask bumped back into his face leaving him with a deep cut under his right eye and a spectacularly bloody nose. After he fell the Joker’s henchmen held him down while the Joker took a line of cocaine off his chest. 

Wayne wasn’t sure he’d ever live that one down.

 

The next evening around six Batman found himself dealing with much more bullshit than he wanted to deal with in a day—the first instance of bullshit being first an overgrown pair of Matrix trenchcoat paintball armor hooligans bent on murdering every law enforcement officer they could get their hands on and the second instance of bullshit being _the god damned Joker again_ sailing in just when Batman had managed to corner his opponents on the second floor of an old parking garage.

The clown made a grand entrance like always, this time in another stolen police car (2014 dodge charger r/t modified derby complete with a fucking flamethrower sticking out of the back window) which he drove around like a deranged nascar champion laughing doing donuts in the middle of the lot while Batman struggled to simultaneously escape gunfire and keep the other men from escaping and he was sweating rivers inside his suit he could feel it rolling down his temples his chest into the crack of his ass

Get out of here Joker, Batman yelled over the sound of screeching tires. i don’t have time for you. He dove behind a pillar as one of the other men pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and the Joker sprayed a foot-wide blast of fire in his direction heating up the air around them even more. 

i didn’t know i had to make an appointment to fight you, or i would have called your secretary, the Joker called back without stopping. You’re getting awfully popular around here Batman.

Is that the fucking Joker? One of the trenchcoats screamed to his accomplice. i thought he was dead. The police car skidded to a halt inches from him and the Joker trained two machine pistols on all of them. Batman froze, unsure if his suit would hold up against the bullets at such close range. He really didn’t feel like getting shot again so soon. 

i can’t die, kiddo, the Joker growled at the man who had spoken. Nobody in this town is up to the challenge, are they. 

Back up, Batman barked at the trenchcoats but they didn’t move. He glanced sideways at the Joker and could have sworn he saw the clown wink at him a half second before one of the the others fired and the Joker returned fire and the shorter man dropped with twelve bullets lodged in his torso and then all  
Wayne felt was the push of his remaining opponent against him all he felt was the narrow dirty sting of a needle plunging into his flesh just above his knee followed immediately by the sensation of fluid burning into his leg and pushing upwards leaving burning trails in its wake. He took a step forward fell face-first onto the concrete grabbing blindly for his attacker’s ankle as _the drug worked its way into his body up into his heart then the Joker was on them both knocking the other man back off his feet screaming You’re dead do you hear me you god damned dirt dog you’re fucking worse than dead i swear on everything left that is holy in this godforsaken city that your mother will CRY when she sees what i’ve done to you then  
the Joker was holding the man’s wrist down with his foot crushing the bone the Joker was laying his knife at right angles to the man’s fingers and pushing down on the blade with all of his body weight the man was screaming begging but the Joker just laughed and kept going he laughed and the sheer joy sound carried through the entire parking lot high over the rooftops over the peaks and kept on carrying and kept on then_

the man was dead gushing blood onto the slick grey pavement and the Joker was on top of him digging around in his coat while Wayne shuddered and twitched on the ground ten feet away _helpless he was helpless he was helpless he was  
i’m not going to hurt you the Joker’s voice was in his ears. The Joker's hands were on his helmet pressing the quick release for fucksake i’m not going to hurt you just stay still but the air was buzzing with heat and Wayne was choking_

Stay on your side, the Joker ordered, kneeling down beside him and pressing two fingers against the pulsepoint on his neck. The fingers retracted and Wayne felt the floor rock beneath him as his nemesis rolled him into the Recovery Position. Then the Joker went to the bodies of the dead men, began rifling through their clothes. He pulled a small clear vial from the depths of one of their pockets held it up to the car's headlight squinting at the label. This is the antidote...i think. Wayne watched him pull the trenchcoat back farther and began searching the pockets again _the purple of the Joker’s gloves and his coat all blended together in the dark. Wayne could barely make him out at all except for his white face hovering in the air like a ghost._ Do you have a syringe, the Joker asked him. Wayne tried to answer but judging from the look on the Joker’s face his response hadn’t made much sense.

i have one in the car, the Joker said. i’ll be right back. He ran off he was running actually running flat out like the situation was actually an emergency to him it was too much.  
Wayne choked and gagged violently as his nerves spasmed. He tried to get up onto his hands and knees as his stomach contracted but his arms gave out the Joker was there catching him easily wrapping both arms around his chest holding him up while his stomach heaved so hard it hurt, and he could barely breathe the harsh wet sound of his retching echoed throughout the lot pounding at his oversensitive eardrums _and it was so hot_

Don't fight it, the clown ordered. Wayne didn’t have much of a choice so he didn’t struggle he let the Joker hold onto him as he vomited all over the concrete _as the blood coursed fast through his head to the beat of his heart his vision alternated between blurring and snaps of violet plasmaglobe electricity arcing up through his eyeballs, it was too fucking hot_

Wayne barely registered the quick bite of a second needle at the crook of his elbow. 

It should kick in soon, the other man hummed in his ear. Just breathe, princess. 

Wayne breathed. 

Here, lean on me, the Joker said after what seemed like an hour but was probably closer to a minute. You’ll breathe more easily if you’re sitting. The Joker drew Wayne close wrapped his thick violet coat around them both because Wayne had suddenly gone from too hot to too cold and he shivered _and the walls were dripping the paint parking lines were melting into one another and everything was watercolors_ i’ll call 911 if you want me to, the Joker told him. Or if we wait for a few minutes the pigs will probably show up, they can help you. i’ll have to take off though.

No, Wayne said. Not yet. i think it’s working. He swallowed hard fighting the nausea. i just. i. i want to lie down.

i know a place around here we can go, the Joker said. Can you walk.

Not really, Wayne laughed weakly. He flinched at the shake in his voice and his nerves were on fire.

Give me your hands. The Joker sat back stretched purple gloved tracer fingers towards him _the purple lit up the night_. Or do you want me to carry you.

You can’t. Carry me, Wayne gasped. The clown’s red lips quirked up and he barked out a laugh.

Wanna bet.

No.

So come on.

Why? Wayne managed to gasp out. The Joker glowered at him.

Either give me your fucking hands Bruce Wayne, he snapped, or i’ll leave you lying here covered in your own vomit half in and half out of your stupid batsuit how does that sound.

Wayne squeezed his eyes shut and reached out then

_he was slung over the edge of a bathtub heaving bile into the drain and there was an arm was around him holding him there, holding him up and that smell of blood and sweat and gunpowder surrounded him once again god he'd missed that smell but it wasn't enough the fear was taking hold of him again_  
_overpowering him_  
_roaring through his veins and he couldn't get enough air_

Hey, it's okay. The clown's arms tightened around his back. It's the drug that's making you panic, it'll wear off. Breathe. Wayne tried

choked

and threw up again _he was going to suffocate he was going to die on the floor of a wet dingy bathroom_ Come on Wayne, i've seen you ghost ride a fucking semi, you can handle this, the Joker said to him. Slow, deep breaths. Wayne coughed once twice then dragged a trickle of air into his lungs. He took another breath, then another.

You know that you're not going to die, right? the Joker was murmuring. i got the antidote to you in time. Wayne nodded and pulled back to rest his throbbing head on the edge putting all of his remaining energy into breathing slowly into keeping his mind from going everywhere at once. He noticed for the first time that he was no longer wearing any part of his suit. The clown slowly tugged Wayne away from the bathtub into his arms. Wayne shuddered and turned his head into the crook of the other man's neck. It's okay, princess, the Joker breathed in his ear. Relax for a minute. Wayne realized that the Joker was rocking him gently back and forth (back and forth back and forth) the fucking JOKER who had nearly broken his nose not thirty hours ago was rocking him was trying to calm him.

It worked. He was still nauseated and in pain but the panic was fading the all-consuming anxiety was draining away. Wayne burrowed under the Joker's trenchcoat, closed his eyes. The Joker's fingertips were pressing against his wrist and he tried to hold his hand still so that the Joker could take his pulse.

The drug they gave you packs one hell of a punch, Wayne's nemesis remarked his gravel voice echoing off the walls of the small room. So you might be pretty weak until tomorrow morning at least. i kept the vial for you if you want to take a look at it later, it’s on the table in the other room.

What, Wayne coughed. Where are we?

The Joker ignored his question in favor of holding a bottle of water to his mouth. Wayne sipped and spat, sipped and swallowed and when it didn’t come back up the Joker took the bottle away and said: until the effects subside you probably shouldn't be alone.

 _(i don't_ want _to be alone not now not like this)_ Wayne suddenly felt like he was going to cry like he was going to lose it again and he couldn't stop shaking

Is there anybody you can call to come and keep an eye on you? Wayne shook his head, imagining _phoning up a bodyguard or one of the nameless botoxed socialites he fucked asking them to come over and watch him sweat and puke for hours_ the Joker was running a hand across his back over and over and over.

i’ll stay, he said at last.

Hmm? Wayne looked up at him.

i’ll stay for a while. The Joker shrugged. The Gotham five o will never find this place so you can hole up here as long as you need. He tilted his head back and forth, considering. i’ve got a subway bombing at eight but i can always reschedule it.

What’s wrong with you, Wayne asked.

Plenty. The Joker handed Wayne a wad of toilet paper.

Thank you, Wayne said.

Don't thank me. The Joker smiled his beautiful crooked smile. Now if you want to recover quickly all you can do is rest and hydrate. And maybe take a benzo if you need to. i have some.

What kind? Wayne rasped as the Joker eased him up against the bathtub while the tiled floor tipped up at him.

Valium tens, nothing too strong. The Joker turned on a sink tap and reached for a washcloth. i’m going to clean you up, is that alright.

Sure. Wayne tried to take off his t shirt but the muscles in his arms ached in protest and he bit back a hiss of pain. The Joker batted his hands away and tugged the bile-splattered shirt over his head. He slumped back with his legs straight out in front of him let the other man wipe the vomit and saliva from his face his neck the cut under his eye and _god it felt so good better than it had any right to feel._

Hey. The Joker tapped his knee and Wayne realized he'd nearly fallen asleep. Stand up and i'll put you to bed, does that sound good. Wayne nodded listlessly. He didn't have much of a choice except to allow his enemy to look after him and he felt too sick too sleepy too fucked up to care much. The past few weeks had beaten Wayne down again, he was tired, and anyway if his decision to trust the Joker was wrong then he was already dead and if he didn't trust the Joker then he could die on his own and if he called the police for help his Secret Identity would be toast and he would go to prison.

 _And nobody else would help him._ Wayne nearly laughed when he realized that.

His bladder throbbed suddenly and he gritted his teeth.

i need to piss, he said. The Joker nodded and tugged Wayne's boxers down. Then he fit his hands under Wayne's armpits taking most of his weight first as he staggered to his feet then again as he dropped down onto the toilet seat. The movement sent a jolt of nausea into Wayne's stomach and he doubled over trying not to retch while the floor tipped up at them. The Joker dropped a towel into his lap then stood at his side bracing his shoulders keeping him steady.

Puke in the towel if you need to, the clown said to him. It's okay, i'll clean it up. Wayne sighed tiredly but his breath caught and he heaved and it hurt.

Fuck, he gasped as his stomach clamped down hard forcing the little water he'd swallowed up into his throat ratcheting up the pain in his head. The Joker squeezed his shoulders. Wayne leaned into him waited for it all to stop there was nothing he could do but wait, and remember to breathe.

You once told me in a roundabout way that you think i'm tougher than you, the Joker remarked, chuckling softly. i know that you can get pretty down on yourself but you're no bitch Bruce Wayne, remember that. You're dealing like a fucking champ. _i couldn't if you weren't here_ Wayne wanted to say in response but he didn't.

After Wayne settled the clown flushed the toilet lifted him easily and helped him pull his boxers up. Then the Joker slid his arms around Wayne’s waist and lead him across the filthy carpet into what appeared to be a small basement hotel room. It was bare and blessedly cool and everything was grey dust colored including the bed that the Joker deposited Wayne on.

There’s a trash can right next to you, the Joker murmured, pulling the sheet up around Wayne's shoulders. i think you’re done, but stay on your side just in case. Wayne hummed as the Joker’s bare fingers carded through his hair elegant fingertips digging softly against his temples chasing away the ache.

Why, he asked after a while. Why this time? The Joker’s hand stilled on his head.

Well i'm not about to let a two-bit half-retarded thug kill the Batman, he replied. Only i have that privilege. Wayne smiled in spite of the pain.

It's more than that and you fucking know it. Why did you help me. Why are you helping me this time.

There is no _why_ , the Joker said, shrugging. When i saw that you were really in trouble i realized that i wanted to help so i did. i wouldn't be here if i didn't want be. Here, with you. That's all. The Joker's hands slipped down Wayne's chest over his ribs.

So is this your way of repaying me or are you going soft on me? Wayne whispered grinning. His nemesis didn't respond other than to kiss his forehead briefly and retreat back into the bathroom. Wayne slowly lowered himself down, smiling smugly. But when his head hit the pillow the entire room tilted sharply making his stomach lurch again and he lunged for the trashcan. The Joker came back and held his head still as his body convulsed as he threw up first fluid, and then nothing.

i can’t. Wayne propped himself up on his elbows. i can’t. It won’t...

You’ve still got the spins? That sucks. The mattress dipped but Wayne didn’t open his eyes. The sound of water dripping onto itself filled the small room and Wayne sighed as a cold cloth swiped across his mouth then pressed over the back of his neck. It might take a while for you to start feeling normal, the Joker told him. You should try to rest. i'm going to wait about half an hour and then you can have some gatorade okay. Wayne couldn’t help the little sound of misery that crept out of his throat. Does it help the nausea if you keep your head elevated? the Joker asked.

Yes, Wayne said. He heard the other man shifting around beside him then the Joker was grabbing his shoulders bringing him closer. Wayne slitted his eyes open just enough to see the blur of a white pillow pressed up against the Joker’s chest as he was guided to lie between outstretched legs. He snapped his eyes shut and tried to focus on settling down not on how he felt ( _safe, comforted, protected_ ) with the Joker's arms around him.

Relax, princess, the clown purred. The Joker’s on guard.

How do i know you won’t slit my throat while i’m out, Wayne mumbled into the clown's lap.

i’m not going to slit your throat. Wayne felt the Joker’s abdominal muscles tighten slightly as he sighed. That would be a crappy anticlimax for both of us, me offing you when you’re defenseless like this. And it's bad fucking form.

What if you’re lying, Wayne pressed.

i don’t lie to you, Bruce Wayne, the Joker said impatiently, flicking his hair out of his face. i’ve already told you before. And i don’t lie to the Batman either.

We’re not two different people, Wayne pointed out.

Yes you are. When the Joker spoke Wayne risked looking up at him and for a moment he could have sworn the clown’s onyx chip eyes softened the tiniest increment but then he blinked and it was gone the white Mask was back in place. Wayne decided against arguing with him.

Some time passed. Wayne lay still and listened to the Joker's heartbeat tried to ignore the throbbing in his head and the churning in his stomach. Twice he was startled out of a half-doze by a straw poking at his lip, and twice he pulled the straw into his mouth to drink a little before settling back into the Joker's arms. He still felt ill and weak but the gatorade stayed down, so after he'd finished half the bottle the Joker told him that he was probably through the worst of it that he should try to sleep.

So you’re just going to sit here and watch me sleep? Wayne asked.

Do you not want my company? i'll leave if that's what you'd prefer but—

i'd like for you to stay, Wayne interrupted his voice rough and grated. But don't you have things to do.

Well i brought a book...the Joker shifted and Wayne heard the flutterscratch of paper against paper. Like i said, i’ve got nothing that needs doing today.

You read?

Only when i’m medicated. You caught me at a good time.

Really.

i read most of your copy of In Cold Blood, remember. Last winter.

You’re really weird, Wayne mumbled. The Joker chuckled softly.

Shut up and go to sleep. The clown’s hand was on his back again rubbing gently _(so gently!)_ up and down the line of his spine slowly soothing his abused senses and he couldn’t fight it anymore.

He shut up. 

He went to sleep. 

When he woke to the sun slatting through the blinds he was alone with a Joker card clenched in his outstretched hand and he wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time.

 **Lemonade**

There's such a thing as self opinion  
And this far down South I have no self control  
If anybody else feels like a nobody  
Well then you’re gonna have to look out for you 

I'll colour green everything believed in  
But I keep screaming for my glass of lemonade 

I walk around and it feels good to be movin  
The breeze that's blowin through cannot be found  
Jump on the trolley that's headed for all the hollering  
And then you're gonna have to look out for you 

In desperate need of a little more religion  
To nurse your godlike point of view 

Fool on the sheetroof you gotta lay down in your ruins  
The river flowin by is way too big to bound  
If I should speak up and say hello Mr. Uppercut  
Oh, how nice to have avoided you 

I'll bloody bleed on everything I'm seeing  
But I keep screaming for that glass of lemonade 

Too much, too much, too much lemonade  
Too much, too much, too much lemonade 

**Author's Note:**

> The Joker's line "...that your mother will CRY when she sees what i’ve done to you" is a reference to the film Tommy Boy. 
> 
> [This live version of the title song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pERspz4DiRk) inspired a lot of this fic, if anybody cares. Shannon Hoon gives off hella Joker vibes in that instance.
> 
>  **10/15:** Someday i'll probably fix up the style so that it matches the other stories in the series...idk this one was pretty experimental...


End file.
